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June 26, 2009
Continued from 6/25

As he fills our common air space with Milano-accented blather, I wonder if I should reveal that I'd been wondering why he'd wear a blood-stained garment in public. However, he diverts my attention with an out-of-the-blue assertion that I'm a quintessential New York Jew. I slink away, but he inserts himself back into my space later, effortlessly lifts me in his arms, and carries me to his lesbian friend. If I hadn't already realized his shirt was as impeccable as his English, I'd worry that he was presenting me to this woman as their next murder prospect.